


U-Turn

by shootingstar11



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootingstar11/pseuds/shootingstar11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months into her marriage with Henry, Mary comes to a great realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	U-Turn

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! After watching last Sunday's episode of Downton Abbey, I was so distraught that I thought I should write a better ending, in case the Christmas Special disappoints (like I think it might), and Mary doesn't actually end up with Tom. This is the first fic I have ever completed and uploaded, since there needs to be more about this pairing! I'm guessing that Mary and Henry got married in August, so they would have been married four months by the time this story takes place. Also, I'm American, so I apologize if I made serious errors with the dialogue! Hope you enjoy.

It was on a rainy December day that Lady Mary Talbot realized she had married the wrong man.

It had been coming to her for a while, of course. In the rush to the alter, she had been swept away by the spontaneity of the thing, so unlike her normal tendencies, that she had almost entirely ignored the voice of doubt in her head. Almost.

And it wasn’t all her fault. No, she could place most of the blame on Tom, and Granny, and Anna, and everyone else who told her that Henry was utterly perfect for her. She had lost her own voice in the cacophony, and was now married to a man she hardly knew.

Oh, what her darling Matthew would say. If he could have spoken back to her that day at his grave, surely he would’ve warned her? Told her that Henry could not possibly live up to the love and the adoration that they had shared? Maybe she could have told herself that, had she not been so desperate for happiness.

At least Edith had gotten one thing right.

But the fact remained that Mary _was_ married to Henry, had been for months now, and she was completely and perfectly bored.

Oh, it had been alright at first. Honeymoon in the south of France, settling back in at Downton, everybody beaming and congratulating the pair of them as if they had just returned from Buckingham Palace. It was almost embarrassing.

But then they really settled. And that’s when it became clear.

“Mary, what do you think of the look of this car? I really ought to buy a new one.”

“You spend more time worrying about this estate than you do your own husband.”

“Say, do you think that man Thomas would mind watching George? I was hoping to do a bit of driving this afternoon.”

It was like she had invited a stranger into her life, one who was only interested in cars and Mary, in that order. Had Henry even met George before she married him? Now she had to raise her son, Matthew’s son, with the man. Henry couldn’t even respect her work for Downton. He would hardly try to understand it, in fact.

It was like living a nightmare. One where her life stretched out before her, filled with practiced smiles and calm expressions, only to mask the numbing horror within.

She had never wanted stability. Or this sort of stability, at any rate. She had wanted passion, excitement, 60 or so years-worth. Yet Mary feared she would never again feel the blazing red fires in her heart that she had once felt with Matthew. So she remained, stuck in a lifeless marriage to Henry Talbot.

Until that fateful day in December.

The day had been a long one, to be sure. The poor weather had guaranteed a day lounging about the house, conducting tedious conversations until everyone was quite sick of everyone else. To avoid yet another hour of listening to Edith drone on about Bertie, Mary excused herself early, heading upstairs to have a few hours alone before Henry returned from his trip to London.

As Mary began to walk down the hall towards the children’s room, she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. Her annoyance gave way to relief when she spotted Tom.

“I see I wasn’t the only one sick of Edith’s rambling.” She grinned at him. Smirking slightly, Tom stepped into place beside her.

“I thought I would use your leaving as an excuse to visit Sybbie.”

“Quite right.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they walked the remainder of the hall. But when Mary opened the door to the children’s room, it was to find the three of them sleeping deeply.

“We shouldn’t wake them,” Tom whispered.

Mary silently agreed, and closed the door quietly behind her. She glanced at Tom. “What should we do now?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“Oh, I only said that to get away from Edith. I’m not tired at all, actually.” And it was true. Whatever exhaustion Mary had felt a few minutes ago, it was gone now.

They stood in silence for a few moments, until Tom suggested, “We could sneak back to the dining room and see if Carson hasn’t removed the port yet.”

Mary smiled wider then she had done in a while. “Great minds think alike. How improper of you to suggest it.”

Grinning like fools, they checked the emptiness of the hall from the gallery, and then dashed as quickly as they dared downstairs and into the dining room. Just as she had thought, the room had not been cleared from dinner.

Mary sat in the chair next to Tom, and watched him patiently as he poured them both a drink.

“How are the pigs getting on?” He asked, handing Mary her wine.

“Pretty well, I think. Mr. Mason said he’s enjoying working with them.”

Tom raised his glass. “Then I propose we toast to yet another successful venture of yours.”

“Of ours,” Mary hastily corrected him.

Tom nodded thoughtfully as he took a swig of wine. “What day is it, exactly?”

“December 14th, I believe. Why?”

“I just forgot to wish you and Henry a happy four month anniversary, is all.”

Mary waved his comment away. “Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s not like we celebrated it.” Or celebrated any anniversary, for that matter.

Tom shot her a teasing look. “Oh, really? No celebrating whatsoever?”

Mary, feigning shock, brought her hand to her chest as she took a rather large drink of her wine. “Mr. Branson, I have absolutely no idea what you are implying.”

Breaking character, she burst out laughing, Tom soon following suit. Their laughter eventually turned into pensive silence, Mary looking out across the table and Tom looking into his glass.

Drawing up her courage, Mary glanced at Tom hesitantly before adding, “No, actually. There wasn’t any of that celebrating either.”

Cringing, Mary turned away so as to hide her embarrassment from Tom. Why on Earth had she told him that? Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t told anyone about her marital problems, and Tom seemed the best choice in confidant.

After a torturous silence, Tom spoke, almost as though he was choking on his words. “Aren’t you happy with him?”

“As happy as I ever was,” she replied bitterly. Daring herself a step further, Mary added, “Or as happy as I thought I deserved.”

She could almost feel his anger and surprise. “What is that supposed to mean? As happy as you deserve? Do you really think so little of yourself?”

He clearly didn’t understand. “What I thought is that Henry made me as happy as I ought to be after Matthew. And so I married him.”

“You said you were in love with him,” Tom countered.

“And you told me he was the perfect man for me, so I guess we were both wrong,” Mary snapped back.

Tom looked as though he had been slapped across the face. “That’s not what I told you. I said you shouldn’t give up on the person who’s perfect for you.”

Mary was beginning to lose control of her temper. If she had been in a clearer state of mind, she would’ve thought she was acting quite ridiculous. “If you didn’t mean Henry, who else were you talking about?”

Tom really did choke then. Glancing furtively at the table, he stammered, “I didn’t mean anyone in particular.” His face resembled a tomato.

Suddenly realizing something, Mary froze entirely. “Why did you return to Downton, Tom?” It felt like she was speaking in a dream.

The silence dragged for what felt like minutes. Hours. Finally, as if he had to steel himself, Tom straightened, and then turned to face Mary straight-on.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

This was clearly what a heart attack felt like, Mary thought, since it seemed to be pounding through her chest. There was a roaring in her ears, drowning out any sound except that of her own breathing. That, too, was irregular. But even in this state of near collapse, she was able to focus on one thing. Tom.

Tom, who she had defended from the beginning. Tom, who loved Sybil as dearly as she had. Tom, who had stood by her side and pulled her out of her own grief. Tom, who fit seamlessly into her family. Tom, who took more than a little of her heart when he moved to America. Tom, who had given that piece back upon his return, and then some. _Tom._

“Explain,” Mary gasped. She was grateful she had the strength to say even that much.

Tom’s words were rushed, like he was afraid he would run out of nerve.

“I don’t know when it started. I mean, I do, but I think I loved you long before that. Remember last Christmas? When you sang Silent Night? Watching you, I felt this odd sort of happiness. And it took me until I got to Boston to realize why it had felt odd. It was because I hadn’t felt that way since Sybil was alive. Like looking at you, being with you, made me want to be a better person. Not that you’re a replacement for Sybil, or anything, oh God, I just mean you made me realize what it meant to love again. After losing her. And I spent those months in Boston wrestling with myself, wondering if it was right, if it was fair, to be in love with my dead wife’s sister. By the time I booked our travel back, I had decided that it would be enough to be around you. To work with you. To help you on your way to happiness. That’s why I pushed you so fervently towards Henry. Because if you were with him, you couldn’t be with me. But Mary, darling, I love you so much. I love how passionate you are about Downton, about your work and your family. I love your intelligence, your cleverness, and how you challenge me. I would spend every day of the rest of my life loving you, if you let me.”

“That was quite a declaration,” Mary breathed, half out of shock and half out of disbelief.

Tom seemed to collect himself, and then pushed back from the table abruptly. “I should go,” he said, without looking at her. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to spend time with me after this.”

Just like that, the dream-like state of the conversation evaporated, and Mary hurried to stop Tom’s exit from the dining room.

Just as he reached the doorway, she caught his arm. Tears spilling down her cheeks, and with a happiness she hadn’t felt in years, Mary cried, “Oh, Tom. I’m in love with you too. Of course I am.”

A smile broke across his face, reaching from ear to ear. “Do you really mean it?” She nodded, and was relieved to notice she was no longer the only one crying.

As if the distance between them was too much to bear, Tom pulled her close, stroking her hair back from her face in wonder.

Grinning uncontrollably, Mary leaned in, whispering across Tom’s lips, “Now, _this_ is something worth celebrating.” Tom’s jubilant laughter was smothered by her kiss.

Some immeasurable time later, the door to the dining room burst open, revealing an irate Henry and an abashed-looking Daisy.

Henry took in the scene before him, and it was clear that he missed nothing. “Mary?” He asked. “What in God’s name is going on here?”

And with the strength of Tom beside her, the confidence she was famous for, and the love in her heart she had once thought lost to her forever, Lady Mary Crawley stood proud and looked her husband in the eye.

“I want a divorce.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think in the comments, or if anybody wants to talk about the disaster that was this last episode, feel free! Thanks for reading!


End file.
